Unsolved (Invisible #2) - James Patterson Page 0,100
the various times between 3:12 p.m. and 3:28 p.m. that Friday, as Natalie said. The angle is different than the one we saw in the side-profile, ground-level surveillance footage from the pawnshop in New Orleans. This one is from a police observation device mounted on a traffic light on Broadway and aimed downward; it shows the rear, passenger side, and roof of the van. Looks like the same van all three times to me too.
I head back inside to where Books and the facility’s head administrator are talking. “Emmy Dockery, this is Louise Hall,” Books says. We shake hands.
“Oh, here he is,” the administrator says, looking down the hallway. A middle-aged man with a buzz cut approaches us; he’s wearing a white T-shirt, sweatpants, and running shoes.
“This is Tom Miller, his physical therapist,” she says.
Tom nods to his boss. “You need me, Louise?”
“Tom, these people are from the FBI.”
“The F—” Tom Miller looks at Books and me with an expression that’s a combination of startled and curious, a typical reaction. “Michelle called you?”
Books says, “Michelle who?”
“Michelle Fontaine,” he says. “One of the other PTs.”
“Why would Michelle Fontaine have called us?”
Miller draws back. “I’m confused. Is this about…Lieutenant Wagner?”
Books and I look at each other. “As a matter of fact, it is,” says Books.
“Wow.” Tom Miller puts his hands on his head. “This is real.”
“We’re going to need to talk to you right now,” says Books. “Somewhere private?”
“Sure, yeah, of course.”
“Is this Michelle person here?”
“No, she didn’t come to work today,” Louise says. “She sent an e-mail last night saying she quit.”
100
TOM MILLER leads us down a long hallway. We pass patients of various ages and shapes and sizes moving with the assistance of wheelchairs, canes, crutches, or walkers. Every one of them says hello to Tom, and Tom’s ready with a cheery response: Hey, Claire, you got some sun! You see those Nationals last night, Mr. Hoyt? Shelvin, you look like a movie star today!
I couldn’t be a physical therapist. I don’t have the patience or the rah-rah disposition.
At the end of the hallway is a stairwell that goes down to the basement—the exercise rooms, Miller tells us—and up to the second floor, where we head. “Second floor’s being remodeled,” he says as we climb the stairs. “But they’re finishing one room for us to use as our conference room. You can’t get reception on the main floor or in the basement. Cell phones are totally useless. Second floor, they work. Here.” We turn from the stairwell into another long hallway, the walls unpainted, the floor partially carpeted, some ladders and drop cloths and construction equipment lying around. The first door on the left has a white sign taped to it that says CONFERENCE.
In the center of the room, there’s a nice oak table surrounded by assorted chairs, and in one corner, there’s a television and a DVD player. But the rest of the room is a work in progress. Half of one wall is painted a light purple, the rest unpainted with tape along the edges; cans of paint and drop cloths and roller pans are everywhere, and there’s a twenty-four-pack of bottled water on the floor with the plastic sheath ripped open. The windows have no blinds, and the afternoon sun is blasting through. I start sweating the moment I enter the room.
“No AC yet, sorry,” he says.
“That’s no problem, Mr. Miller,” says Books.
I nod toward the pack of water bottles in the corner. “You think anyone would mind if I stole one?”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Miller lifts a bottle through the ripped sheath of plastic and puts it on the table in front of me.
Books says, “So what can you tell us about Lieutenant Wagner?”
He gives us what background he can—Army Ranger, injured in Iraq, came to the clinic less than a year ago—but I already know most of it. “He has an incomplete SCI at T nine,” he says, which he translates for us as a spinal-cord injury that allows some movement in the legs. “He can walk a little with a walker. He’s made good progress.”
“Tell me about him personally,” says Books.
Miller says, “Oh, he’s kinda what you’d expect of a war veteran. He’s a crusty old guy. Very opinionated. He goes around the country and talks about how people are too dependent on government. He preaches to a lot of the folks around here. A lot of them look up to him.”